After his father's death, Zakriya decided to collect his belongings, when he entered the room, he was surrounded by a sense of sadness; A room that reminded him of his childhood memories, the voice of his parents who are no more; When he opened the closet door, he found a pair of shoes...
Sitting down on an old trunk, Zakriya turned the shoes over in his hands, trying to decipher their story. Memories flooded back—vivimarksd images of his father, Ibrahim, who had passed away years ago. "Could these be his?" he wondered, tracing his fingers along the familiar wear and tear .
Zakriya remembered his father recounting tales of his youth, stories laced with both triumph and hardship. The shoes were a testament to those stories—a vessel of love and sacrifice.
His father had always been a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes, especially in the way he provided for the family.
"These shoes have walked many miles," Zakriya mused, understanding the depth of his father's silent sacrifices.
"I wish I could have known more," Zakriya thought, a pang of regret mingling with the warmth of cherished memories. He realized the shoes were not just a remnant of his father's past but a bridge to his own future—a reminder to walk the path of love and resilience.
Zakriya placed the shoes back in their corner, this time with reverence. He knew he would carry the stories they held, passing them on to the next generation, ensuring that the legacy of Ibrahim would never fade.
"Thank you, father," he murmured, feeling a sense of peace envelop him as he left the attic, the shoes forever etched in his heart.
